


grit your teeth and smile

by vers



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Body Horror, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Mental Instability, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Suicidal Tendencies, Suicidal Thoughts, like really, not a nice fic y’all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 07:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15680985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vers/pseuds/vers
Summary: After 70 years of being the Asset, Bucky’s switch is flipped, and he’s human again. Which he’s good at dealing with.He just didn’t think he would want to die this much.But, he’ll grit his teeth and fucking smile.





	grit your teeth and smile

**Author's Note:**

> tw serious suicidal thoughts and tendencies, mention of rape/non con, and graphic depictions of violence. 
> 
> not a nice fic y’all, it gets seriously messed up. enjoy anyways :))

Bucky had himself together just fine.

Despite everyone's popular belief, HYDRA hadn't fucked him up beyond repair. (That's what he likes to think, anyway.) As soon as he was done with all the psych evals, and everything else the medical team made him do, he threw himself into working at SHIELD.

He was a good agent, maybe even one of the best. His work was clean and efficient, a noted benefit of being a trained assassin for the course of 70 years. SHIELD was fine. A good time passer if nothing else. Kept his mind off things, which was a hard thing to do.

HYDRA made him into a docile machine. It was easier for them, to _erase,_  which Bucky understands. Everything at HYDRA was about efficiency. It was easier for Bucky too, until he was suddenly a _human being_ again, he actually felt things. Sends his brain into fucking overdrive, constantly. Sometimes, it even makes him think it would've been much less complicated if they would've just killed him instead of trying to bring him back. Left the Bucky that was locked up in there to die.

It's one of the thoughts that constantly lingers, but what Bucky hates is that it doesn't make him _feel_  anything. Death is just an outcome to Bucky, nothing more, nothing less. Just that. And he fucking hates it.

Bucky starts being riskier on missions over time, though. Doing things in dangerous ways, instead of clean, how HYDRA and SHIELD like. Just to get a thrill. Just to  _feel._

Because - it's like, when he's on a mission and he doesn't know whether he'll live or die, his brain shuts up for a while. It's not the deafening screams of the hundreds he's killed, or Rumlow telling him he's a _worthless little bitch._  All that's in his mind, is _live, live, live._  And if he doesn't, that's just the way things work out.

Steve notices, obviously. He tells Bucky to stop acting recklessly, and Bucky _swears by his heart Stevie, I promise,_  every time. And every mission he does something even more dangerous than before.

The moment where people around him realize that shit is really going downhill, is during an Avengers mission.

They're fighting a villain, which, if Bucky's completely honest, has forgot the name of. Kang, or Kong, or something like that. They're making absolutely no progress, and he promised Steve he wouldn't do anything that would put himself in harms way, but he needs this fight to be fucking over.

They were all specifically instructed _not_  to make direct contact with whoever they're fighting. Bucky pushes that thought to the back of his brain as he runs up to the man, and he's vaguely aware that he's dropped his gun on the way there. No point in going back for it, anyway.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He hears Steve yell over the roar of gunfire, but his brain is to busy to process it.  _Live, live, live._

Bucky jumps up onto the man's broad shoulders, holding himself on even as he tries to shake him off. He feels his grip slipping and he knows he's screaming for someone to shoot him in the head.

"It'll go right through you we can't fucking do that!" Someone yells, Clint, maybe, he doesn't know.  _Live, for fuck’s sake, live._

He starts shaking Bucky off even harder, and he's going to slip, crack his head open, _fuck,_  he's really going to die,  _this is going to be how he goes._

Bucky hears the gun fire very faintly, over the rush of blood in his ears, and leans out of the way, just in time for the bullet to go through the villain's head and graze his side. Feels the rush of pain surge through him, and the man crumple beneath him, and  _he can’t believe he’s fucking alive._

Bucky bursts out in gleeful laughter, feels head against the debris on the concrete, feels the warm pool of blood next to his leg from the dead man. He's _alive._ Alive and fucking _feeling._  He's still laughing, hysterically by now, tears forming at the edge of his eyes.

It's not that he's even happy to be alive, it's just, that he's living in the moment. His brain isn't taunting him with old memories of killing people, shaking hands covered in blood and watching the life drain from their eyes. His mind is quiet, but he's alive. He's alive, and it's now, not then.  _Fuck. Alive, alive, alive._

He can still hear himself laughing as someone lifts him up, pain blooming suddenly at his side, before he looks through the smoke ridden sky and passes out.

The next time he wakes up, he's sitting in his bed, and his mind isn't quiet anymore, which was inevitable. Bucky knew that was going to happen logically, but he wishes it could've lasted longer.

"Buck," Steve says softly, clinging onto his hand, "how you feeling?"

His voice is sullen, and Bucky almost feels bad, but he remembers the blissful moments before he passed out, and just can't seem to care anymore.

"Good enough to know that you've watched Titanic at least 3 times since I've passed out." Bucky jokes, wincing as he tries to sit up, pain blooming on his right side.

He hears Steve sigh, deep and disappointed, and Bucky knows he's in for it now. "Good. You're good enough that I can yell at you for how fucking _stupid_  that stunt was."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Can you just drop it." He's not in the mood, and he can barely focus, anyway. Scenes from HYDRA Resistance Training are replaying in his mind, and they're not pleasant at all. He wills his brain to shut up, but it obviously doesn't work.

Bucky grits his teeth through the pain, pushing himself up to get a cup of orange juice. He'd liked apple juice before, but his handlers made him drink litre bottles of it, puke it up, lick it off the floor and repeat the process over and over and over, until he learned his lesson. _You’re in no place to ask for anything, incompetent piece of shit._  He remembers the words exactly, because right after Rollins called his hair a perfect handle for  _bashing that pretty face into the floor._

"...reckless, and selfish, and _stupid,_  Buck! There were other ways to end that fight."

Bucky pours himself a glass of orange juice, feeling oddly calm and tranquil. Huh. Maybe they pumped him full of drugs again.

"Stevie, that fight was going nowhere, and we both know it. Sorry if I ended it to minimize anymore destruction. If that makes me selfish, then so be it." He shrugs, gulping down the orange juice and ignoring his pleas of _please don’t make me puke, not again_  playing through his mind.

"Don't you Stevie me! You gotta stop being so reckless..."

Bucky's pretty sure he goes on after that but he doesn't listen, tuning him out partially because he wants to, and partially because of the screams playing out through his mind.

After a while he registers JARVIS's voice coming through. Bucky registers that Tony wants him up on his floor. He jumps up, wanting to get away from Steve's droning about his safety. It's not like that shit's important anyway. He wishes that Steve could understand that if he died, it wouldn't be such a tragic loss anyway. Sure, people would be sad for a while, but they'd learn to live their lives and get over it. It's just not that big a deal.

As he rushes down to Tony's floor, (he always takes the stairs, they're easier and standing in an metal box for more than 5 seconds is probably not the best for Bucky) he's hoping that Tony won't want to _talk_  or any ridiculous shit like that.

Bucky hears the rock music get louder as he steps into Tony's lab. He's working on something at one of the tables, so Bucky plops down in one of the stools.

“You’re not going to lecture me too, are ya?” Bucky asks, humour filling his tone as he gazes up at Tony with a playful grin. All fake, of course.

“Cut the bullshit, Barnes.” Tony snaps, not looking up from his work. Bucky immediately assesses the situation as not good, but that doesn’t deter him. His grin stays unwavering on his face. Even as he remembers the time he bit through his own tongue when they first put him in the chair. Bucky remembers it clearly, the technician sighing dreadfully like it was a mere inconvenience to him, and the blood, _God,_  the blood pouring out, dark red and thick, all around his mouth and down his shirt, all the way to where his tongue was sitting. Well, at least he wasn’t remembering the time he choked on it, right?

Bucky’s snapped back to reality (partially- he can still feel the pierce of stitches going through his tongue, but that isn’t so bad.) when Tony sets whatever he’s working on down.

Tony lets out a deep sigh, sounding much like Howard, if Bucky’s being honest. “I know what you’re up to.”

Bucky’s smile never drops, but it does become slightly confused as he pulls his eyebrows together. He’s faking confusion, of course. To avoid the inevitable. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

It’s short, clipped, and Tony might’ve even believed him if he didn’t use that tactic all the time.

“No, you do know what I’m talking about, don’t you? You know because I know. I know that you’re getting risky with your missions. I know that you don’t give a fuck about what kind of situations you’re putting yourself in,” Tony says, growing louder and louder because he fucking knows, “I know you that you feel _worthless_  and that no one can ever undo what you did, so you might as well just die. So you tell yourself you’re not suicidal, just pushing yourself in a fatal direction, and if you die, well hey! That’s just  _the way things fucking turn out!”_

Tony’s tone is hysterical by the end, bordering on mocking. Bucky’s not sure if he’s mocking him, or hisself. What he is sure of though, is that Tony’s hit the nail on the head. He looks down at his hands and he’s shaking, screams tearing through his mind, as well as guilt. Because it sounds so fucking horrible when Tony puts it that way.

Bucky wipes the tears from his eyes, seething anger and hatred as he stares up at Tony. He thinks he fucking knows anything. He thinks he knows what guilt is. Just because he sold some stupid fucking weapons, that he didn’t even have to _see_ the destruction of. He doesn’t have to _live_  with it the way Bucky does. The Asset (Bucky. Whatever.) tore men’s beating hearts out of their chests and bit down on them while their wives watched in horror, laughing like a fucking manic because that’s what HYDRA wanted him to do. He’s done so much shit, conscious or not, he’s done it. Why the _fuck_ should he get to live?

Bucky stands up abruptly, throwing his chair through a glass wall, sending shards everywhere.

“You don’t know shit.” Bucky’s voice is dangerously calm and quiet, a growl spoken close up to Tony’s face.

Bucky turns and walks away, because he needs to get the _fuck_ out of this place. _Needs quiet._  His brain is so _loud,_  buzzing and humming with thoughts, so insistent that he can barely even focus on one at a time, pausing just enough to torture him then fluttering by.

With HYDRA, Bucky’s mind was quiet. Fucked up seven ways to Sunday, sure but, quiet. He could, fuck, he had to find somewhere, _someone_  quiet.

That was how he found himself at Rumlow’s door.

Bucky always knew where he was. Brock hid in plain sight, living just a few blocks away from the tower. Rumlow thought it was genius, but the only reason it was working was because he’d told SHIELD to stay away from him. Bucky didn’t want to kill him, and he was already fucked up from the whole Triskelion disaster, so it’s not like he needed to do that either. He thought it best to just leave him alone.

Brock opens the door, and Bucky’s mind goes quiet. It’s so fucking blissful he almost moans, but stops himself when Rumlow’s eyes widen and he tries to close the door. Bucky sticks his foot in right before it closes, pushing his way in. He shuts the door behind him carefully, cursing when his handler, fuck, _Rumlow,_ backs away from him.

“Swear I’m not here to hurt you, I promise, please just listen.” Bucky rambles desperately, fat tears falling from his eyes when he feels the humming build up again. _Please._  Rumlow doesn’t listen, just keeps trying to get further away from him, so Bucky does the only thing he knows when he’s faced with a handler.

He drops to his knees.

“Hit me. _Please,_  sir.” He’s begging, desperate, he knows, but Rumlow always did like it when he begged to be hit. Bucky must’ve struck a chord because his handler freezes, then walks hesitantly towards Bucky.

Rumlow backhands him from a distance, just to test it out. The Asset’s mind goes completely blank, and he mumbles out готов к подаче.

_Ready to serve._

The Asset had forgotten that phrase. It switched the mind off, when they wanted to use it for _fun_  things, like torture or rape. It could still feel of course, just couldn’t think. Just what Bucky needed.

Rumlow _really_  had a go at the Asset for the next few hours. Bashing its head into the floor, shoving toothpicks under its fingernails, cutting its flesh arm up in long, deep lines. It didn’t mind. Its head was blank. That’s all that matters.

_Quiet._

**Author's Note:**

> hope you guys liked it!!! leave a kudos or a comment and i will be eternally grateful <3


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